This morning was awkward comment day at the lake.  Thrice.

Duncan, my Weimaraner, needs lots of exercise.  So, there’s a lake near us that has no car traffic and is paved all the way around.  It’s a 5 mile loop, and  even if I run the entire 5 miles (which I hope to do again, soon), Dunkie barely breaks a sweat.  Since Mini-me arrived, and I’m responsible for him (meaning Steph would kill me if I left him home alone), he gets to be pushed around the lake in the three-wheeled comfort of BOB while Dunkie and I jog.

It was cold at the lake this morning.  So, I bundled up Gavin by putting a hoodie over his pajamas. (Steph hates it when I don’t coordinate him.  I say brown goes with everything. ;))  I stuff the Worm into the stroller and cover him with a blanket.  I get Duncan out of the truck and we’re all ready to roll.

Since I can’t run the entire 5 miles anymore (without sleeping the next 18 hrs straight), I run a couple of miles and then walk for a bit.

When I slow down to walk, everyone around wants to talk to me.  (I guess when people look at me they think “Hey, that guy looks sad & lonely.  Maybe I’ll tell him my life story so he doesn’t feel so bad about his.”)  I’m sad and lonely because I want to be, people!

So, within minutes of walking, conversationalist #1 tries to make eye contact with me.  I can feel the eyes piercing my neck and I try to look down at the baby stroller as if I’m checking on him.  (Avoidance tactic.  Steph tells me I’m great at this.)  Man, she’s still staring.  I look up.

“Wow, that’s a BEAUTIFUL dog!  (5 second pause.)  And BABY too!”

“Huh?  Oh, thank you.”  I smile.  “He’s a good dog.  The baby’s ok sometimes too.”  Man, she can’t even see the baby’s face under the hoodie and he’s almost 90% covered up by the blanket.  Does this lady think it’s rude to say my dog is cute without commenting on my baby too?  What?  Does she feel sorry for me that my dog is cuter than my baby?  Maybe I need an uglier dog.

I run another two miles.  Then stop to give Dunkie some water.

Conversationalist #2 walks by me, this time from the opposite direction.  But, not without saying almost the same exact thing #1 said!

“Good morning!  You’re dog is BEAUTIFUL.  Oh, and so is you baby, too!”

“Thank you.”  I smile awkwardly.  WTF?  She can’t even see my baby.  The stroller hood is pulled all the way over him to keep out the rising sun!

I make it around the rest of the lake without incident.  (Probably because I had my ‘thug life’ grimace on.)

Back at the Cruiser (affectionately known as Eleanor), I’m set up to feed Dunkie the rest of his water, change the baby diaper, and stretch a little.  (Not all at the same time, people…)

I look over my shoulder and #1 is in the parking lot, looking at her phone, which seems to be pointed towards me.  I don’t know if she was taking a picture of my toned glutes or what.  But, she walks towards my truck and speaks.

“Is that a Weimaraner?”


“He’s so BEAUTIFUL.  Is he good with the baby?”

(No, he’s actually going to eat the baby once I leave them both unattended in the truck.  Barring any more gruesome event, I should be on the news tonight.)

“Yes, he’s a good dog.” Didn’t you hear me the first time I said it?  “He’s really good around the baby.”  (Can’t you see that he’s literally 2″ away from the baby while I’m changing him?)

“You’re baby’s beautiful too.”

“Thanks.  Have a good day.”  I smile.

Look.  I don’t give a crap if you tell me that I’ve got a beautiful dog.  I know I do.  Both of my dogs are handsome as hell.  They were rescued from a shelter so they’ve got self-esteem issues, but they’re beautiful where it matters most…on the outside.

Dad, Why is My Head Growing So Fast? (Because It's Filling Up With My Wisdom, Son.)

I know my baby’s not as cute as my dogs.  It’s ok.  The Worm was really cute as a baby, but now his head’s sort of growing faster than his face.  He’s going through an ugly phase, kind of like when I was growing up and my adam’s apple stuck out further than my nose.  I get it.

Please don’t tell me my dog is beautiful, then as an afterthought tell me that my baby’s beautiful, too.  That’s just weird and uncomfortable.  It’s not like they came from the same mother.  And it’s not a contest.  Duncan would win, hands down.  (For my mom:  I know you’re reading this and there’s definitely no way Dunkie is cuter than the Worm…no way!)

I like long walks on the beach, romantic dinners, and licking toes!